


The Scientist and The Detective

by HiddlesBatchedSherlollian



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2014-06-23
Packaged: 2018-02-05 23:07:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1835557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddlesBatchedSherlollian/pseuds/HiddlesBatchedSherlollian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Songfic based on Coldplay's The Scientist. It's really sad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Scientist and The Detective

Thoughts swirled, gathered and dissipated cloud-like through his brain as he hurried up the street towards the train station.

_Come up to meet you, Tell you I'm sorry…_

He had been an idiot too many times to count, yet this time the damage he had wreaked loomed dark, wraith-like over him, casting his features into a scowl of despair.

He called her features lovingly to the forefront of his Palace, fondly remembering the times she had awoke in his arms, hair plastered across her face, pillow lines on one cheek and sleep crusting in the corners of her beautiful eyes.

_You don't know how lovely you are…_

He searched the crowd for a hint of her sunkissed hair, pulled up into her characteristic ponytail, heart falling with every face he scanned and dismissed for not being her.

_I had to find you,_

He pushed his way through the seemingly endless crowd of people streaming from King's Cross Station, intent on finding her.

_Tell you I need you,_

She'd been gone for months, sending him an occasional postcard, email and once, one magical evening when the sky was ripped apart by lightning across the UK, she had phoned him. The fear in her innocent voice had enraged him, the knowledge that after everything he had put her through she still trusted him with her fears acting as balm to his baser nature.

The knowledge that despite his last monumental failing she still loved and trusted him buoyed him higher than any drug could ever hope to near.

The fact that she now had no idea how he felt crushed his soul every second she had been away.

_Tell you I set you apart._

No other person, male or female, had made him feel such a myriad of emotions in the time he had known her. She may not match his brains, or his looks, but The Woman had, and he had despised her, in the end.

She may not be his intellectual equal, but she was his emotional master, able to change his mood at a glance. A touch sent oxytocin flooding his system, his heart rate accelerating to the point where he could almost swear she would hear it.

_Tell me your secrets,_

He remembered the first time she stayed with him, her bony shoulder blades fitting into the spaces between his bony elbows, her hair tickling his nose as she whispered parts of her life he had never guessed could have happened to her.

_Ask me your questions_

She had asked him to tell her more of his privileged upbringing, so very different to her own modest childhood, sighing as she pictured the gabled roofs of the numerous "cottages" Mummy had insisted they needed, and the rose bushes lining each entryway that would catch on clothes and rip shopping bags.

_Oh, let's go back to the start…_

He'd discovered there wasn't anything he wouldn't do to be able to meet her again, start their entire relationship anew, to take back the hurt he had caused time and again.

_Running in circles_

Yet he would also not change a second of their time together, hours spent in each other's arms, evenings spent chasing criminals after the baby girl arrived and he was left without a partner.

_Coming up tails…_

He had royally fucked up this time though.

The opportunity to stop The Spider had arisen, carefully constructed to appear to leave her out of it again, when in reality she had been at the centre of its web.

He had ignored the signs; he had been sure he had figured it out.

 _Heads on a science apart_.

She had realised, long before him. Far, far quicker than he had, she had known that the web centred on her, piecing together the clues The Spider had dropped for them to find.

She had been centred, focussed on his plan all along, keeping her wits when he had lost his, panicking over their friends' fates, not paying enough attention to hers.

_Nobody said it was easy_

No one had warned him of the pain being separated from her would result in.

He knew it was nothing in comparison with the physical pain she would have to live with for the rest of her life.

_Oh it's such a shame for us to part.._

He came to a standstill, the sudden, violent need to have her slight frame back in his arms ripping through him with the force of a lightning strike.

_Nobody said it was easy…_

He beat back at his emotions, scanning the crowd despite knowing he wouldn't see her. Not at the height he was accustomed to finding her at, anyway.

_No-one ever said it would be this hard….Oh take me back to the start._

One long fingered hand rose to brush through his ebony curls, frustratedly pushing them back off his forehead as he contemplated his next move.

Twelve months ago, he had no idea of the torment awaiting his return from his self-enforced exile. He had had her, in a strange limbo-esque way, as she had been the only one to know he was still alive outside of family.

She was family.

Just not in the biological way. Neither did he consider her in the same light he viewed his family, tinged with derision and slight amusement.

What he felt with and for her was entirely different, as even then he'd have died for all of them, but for her… He'd have taken any and all of The Spider's tortures to ensure her safety.

_I was just guessing At numbers and figures, Pulling the puzzles apart…_

That summed up his life, cleverly guessing his way through life, making assumptions and dazzling or angering people with his accuracy, whilst she made her life's goal giving joy to those who needed it.

Bringing closure to those didn't know how to find it.

_Questions of science, Science and progress,_

Science and deductions, though similar in principle, were as different as the moon and the stars in practice. Her favourite pastime had become reading a medical journal curled with her head on his lap whilst he tried to deduce what she was reading purely by the almost imperceptible nuances in her facial expressions as she read.

He missed those evenings.

_Do not speak as loud as my heart…_

Leaning against a pillar by the platform she must surely come out of soon, he breathed deeply to steady his nerves, heart sending his blood thundering through his body, fingertips tingling slightly as he strummed them against his leg nervously.

_Tell me you love me_

The first time she had told him he had cried.

The second time, he had crushed her against his chest so hard she had squeaked, wanting to tell her both that he loved her -and he did dammit- and that he appreciated her telling him but unable to do either –cursed damned emotions- so he settled on kissing her furiously, pulling her legs around his waist, drawing her arms up to his neck and marking every inch of her neck bared to him as his.

After three months he had worked up the nerve to tell her back.

She thought he had lost count of the amount of times she had told him she loved him.

He hadn't. To date, she'd told him a hundred and forty six times. He'd told her nineteen.

_Come back and haunt me,_

He'd tell her a thousand times a day if he could have their time back.

_Oh and I rush to the start. Running in circles, chasing tails, Coming back as we are…_

He'd tell everyone if he could have their time back.

_Nobody said it was easy,_

But it was too late.

_Oh it's such a shame for us to part…_

He saw her, the turn of her head as she smiled at the man pushing her chair off the train.

_Nobody said it was easy…_

He smiled at her as she passed, searching the depths of her dark brown eyes for any sign of recognition and physically deflating when he found none.

_No-one ever said it would be so hard._

She turned to face him, her innocent, child-like face with its massive, doe eyes searching him, knowing something was missing, one hand flailing to reach for him until the man- her father- sent him a look that promised a slow and painful death if he ever neared her again and carried on out of the station.

 _I'm going back to the start_.

He slipped slowly down the wall, emotions running riot as he watched her go.

Moriarty had promised to burn the heart out of him.

By taking the soul of the woman he loved, leaving behind a childlike, empty shell, he had succeeded in his goal.

Molly Hooper, Pathologist to the World's Only Consulting Detective was no more. Molly Hooper, victim of the most brilliant criminal the world had ever seen had been born from the ashes of Moriarty's network, leaving Sherlock almost as drained and empty as she was. She was little more than an infant, relying on her peers for everything, even the most mundane of tasks.

He felt no pity, only remorse for not saving his Molly.

Back in Baker Street, he allowed the pain he was feeling to manifest itself in an unbroken scream of anguish, a battered photo of pre-Moriatry Molly and Sherlock clutched to his chest as tears wove their way down his high cheekbones, gathering at his chin and dripping unseen to the hard wooden floor beneath.


End file.
